Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Liechtenstein and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Roxy Music to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Radiohead. All the underground hits.
All John Foxx tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Names record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Spoonie Gee record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Erasure,
Fugazi,
Harry Pussy,
X-Ray Spex,
Sandy B,
Al Stewart,
The Dave Clark Five,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Slick Rick,
The Tremeloes,
Mandrill,
Cybotron,
Rakim,
Marc Almond,
The Knickerbockers,
The Wake,
Malaria!,
Joy Division,
CMW,
Junior Murvin,
The Litter,
The Grass Roots,
Sun Ra,
Main Source,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Pop Group,
Scion,
Con Funk Shun,
Black Moon,
The Busters,
Gichy Dan,
Pierre Henry,
Joe Finger,
the Sonics,
Lou Christie,
The Sound,
Organ,
John Cale,
Franke,
Basic Channel,
Public Enemy,
The Fugs,
Sex Pistols,
Marvin Gaye,
The Residents,
Magma,
Eric Dolphy,
Buzzcocks,
The Smiths,
Fad Gadget,
Rekid,
Lucky Dragons,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Desert Stars,
Dark Day,
Ken Boothe,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Q65,
Jimmy McGriff,
Robert Görl,
Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.